


Wet Paint

by februarystars26



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Louis cameo amen, M/M, idk I saw that pic of johnny's nails painted and god compelled me to write this, johnten, nail polish?, past and present johnten, yuta and Taeyong are mentioned but not there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:47:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28974612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/februarystars26/pseuds/februarystars26
Summary: Ten reallllllyyy wants to paint Johnny's nails, and Johnny works out a deal that will let him. Johnten antics ensure
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 8
Kudos: 188





	Wet Paint

“I just think it would look sooooo good,” Ten whines. 

“Not a chance,” Johnny says with a laugh, raising the beer bottle to his lips again. 

“Ugh,” Ten says, flopping back on his bed. “You’re no fun.”

“Nope,” Johnny says smuggly. 

“Just remember that you didn’t think your long hair would look good and I told you it would and then look, it was perfect. Everybody loved it.” Johnny groans and rolls over to where Louis is lying on Ten’s bed so that he can bury his face in the cat’s soft white fur. 

“I’m not painting my nails!” he declares for the third time in the last ten minutes, even though the sound is muffled by a very cute cat’s stomach. 

Johnny can’t see it but he can hear Ten break into a fit of laughter from where he’s sitting. Johnny laughs, too. He should’ve known they were headed for something like this the moment he’d come over.

But he had really missed Ten. It had been odd for them to go from seeing each other everyday during Work It promos to seeing each other only in passing every few weeks, if they were lucky. They had been enjoying being reunited for Resonance. And then Ten had been telling him he had to come over to see the cats, and they had a rare night off tonight, and they hadn’t just hung out and drank together in… years honestly, but it wasn’t like they could go out anywhere so hanging out in Ten’s room, on Ten’s bed, with a plethora of beer and cats felt like the perfect kill several birds with one stone solution. 

They’d been talking about just random run of the mill things, catching up, and playing with the cats, and then they’d watched half an episode of a drama where the lead had painted nails, and Ten mentioned how hot nail polish was and Johnny could practically hear the lightbulb in Ten’s head go off. And Ten had paused the drama and spun around to look at him with a sick little grin on his face.

And now Johnny’s trying to protect his virgin nails. 

“Ok,” Ten says, after he finishes the rest of his beer. Johnny does the same. “Let’s talk this out. I wanna find a way to convince you.” 

“Ten,” Johnny groans his name, rubbing a hand down his face. “I’m not opposed to the idea of painting my nails exactly. I’m just, like, worried it’ll look stupid.” 

“Why?” Ten asks him. “Taeyongie has done it. I’ve done it. It looked cool on us.”

“Yeah, but they have that look,” is Johnny’s only argument. “I don’t have that look.” 

Ten rolls his eyes. “Shut up and come here,” he says, pulling on Johnny’s ear to make him sit up. And then Johnny is shoulder to shoulder with Ten and they’re looking at an entire pintrest board of guys who have similar “looks” to Johnny but with painted nails. And Johnny has to admit that Ten’s right… it does look a little bit cool. 

“See,” Ten coos, like he knows he’s winning Johnny over. 

Johnny side eyes him. Smug little shit. 

“Ok well,” Johnny starts. 

“Oh good another excuse.”

“Shut up,” Johnny says jokingly, pushing Ten’s shoulder. Ten let’s himself crash down onto his pillows, a beer behind but equally as buzzed as Johnny. Johnny always forgets how much smaller Ten is than him. He shakes that thought from his head and continues. “I’m serious. I don’t want to go through the hassle of going somewhere, getting them done,” he says. Satisfied that he’s given a good enough reason to get out of it this time. 

“What?” Ten asks. “Who said anything about going to get them done? I’ll just do them.” 

“You’ll do them?”

“Yeah!” Ten says with way too much enthusiasm. “What, you don’t trust me? You remember that I’m pretty good at drawing, I think I can handle ten nails.” 

“What will you even paint them with?” Johnny asks expectantly. 

Ten reaches onto the shelf above his bed and produces a bag of nail polish. 

Johnny raises his eyebrows. “Why... do you have a bag of nail polish?”

“I wanted nail polish. I bought nail polish. Why is this hard for you to understand?” Ten asks, picking up Johnny’s hand. 

Johnny pulls it back. “Woah woah woah woah,” he says. “I never said let’s do it. I’m still trying to find a way out of this.” 

“Johnnnnyyyy,” Ten whines. “Come on. I really want to paint them.”

Johnny purses his lips. Ten really does want to paint his nails. And Johnny’s in a very good mood, having fun with his best friend. “Ok,” he relents. 

Ten jumps up and smiles brightly, reaching for Johnny’s hand. 

“Hold on,” Johnny says, stopping him again. 

“Ughh what?” 

“If I’m gonna let you paint my nails, I should get something in return, don’t you think?” Johnny asks him, smirk on his face. 

Ten considers this and then agrees, “Ok, yeah. That’s fair. I get mine, you get yours. So what do you want?”

“Another beer, mostly,” Johnny says, opening two new ones and handing one to Ten. “And um, hmm, what do you think is fair?” Ten reaches for his beer as Johnny asks, and their hands brush over each other’s. Johnny can see him looking at their hands thoughtfully. Ten tips his head to the side like he’s one of the cats.

“Ok,” Ten says. “Let’s do this. I get ten nails, you get ten questions.”

“Ten questions?”

“Yeah, for every nail I paint you can ask me anything you want. And I’ll answer, honestly. Nothing is off limits. Deal?” 

Johnny blinks at him. Ten questions for ten… he can ask anything he wants. That seems fair. And fun kind of fun. “Ok, deal,” he agrees. 

Ten smiles brightly and starts digging through his bag for polish. 

“I think I’m going to do them like a bunch of different colors,” he muses. 

“Ten!”

“What?” he asks innocently. “You didn’t say they all had to be one color.” He laughs. Johnny just takes a swig of his beer. 

Ten picks up Louis and Leon while Johnny drinks and puts them outside the room, something about them being too mischievous to be trusted around this. 

Ten sits back down, both of them cross legged and facing each other now, and lays a towel across his knee. Then Ten starts shaking a bottle of yellow nail polish back and forth in his hand. 

Johnny whines again, “You’re not actually going to paint my nails yellow are you?” 

“Is that one of your questions?” Ten responds, and Johnny huffs. “Also, no, I’m just doing the thumb yellow. It’ll be nice, and match your tattoo.” 

Hmm. Thoughtful, Johnny admits. Ten picks up Johnny’s hand and lays down on top of the towel, getting to work on Johnny’s thumb. When he’s finished he holds it up for Johnny. 

“See?” he asks. And...Johnny has to admit it. It looks pretty nice. Not bad at all. 

Ten pulls a black bottle of polish out of his bag and starts getting it ready, conceivably, for his index finger. 

“Ok,” Ten prompts him, and Johnny looks back up at him, distracted by a combination of trying to figure out what color Ten was going to use next and his hand resting on top of Ten’s knee. “1 nail, 1 question.” 

“Alright,” Johnny says, really trying to think of something good. “Oh I know. Did you dye your hair black to match Taemin?”

Ten chokes on the beer he was sipping. “No!” he shouts when he clears his throat. “I did not dye my hair black to look like Taemin hyung, god, Johnny.” They do both laugh, though. 

He moves onto the next nail and Johnny moves onto the next question. “Bandmate you trust most with the cats?”

“Hendery definitely,” Ten answers with ease. Johnny looks down at his now black index finger. 

“You were right,” Johnny admits. “You are good at this.”

“Told you,” Ten answers and pulls out light blue for his middle finger. “And these questions are easy Johnny,” Ten says, a little bit of mocking in his voice. 

“Well there’s 23 people in NCT! I didn’t think it would be so easy to find a surrogate father for your cats,” Johnny defends himself. 

“Well who else was I gonna pick, Johnny? You? You barely let Taeyong get a fishtank.”

“Fine, fair,” Johnny relents, trying to come up with a better question. He gets an idea when Ten pushes his sleeves up his arms. 

“Ok how about this,” Johnny starts. “My tattoos, do you like them? Honestly?”

Ten nods, “I do. I do like them. They suit you, and you picked them so they’re special.” 

Johnny doesn’t know if he’s satisfied with that answer. He takes another sip of his beer as Ten does the same. “Hold on,” he says. “You just like them?”

“I just said I liked them,” Ten responds, puzzled. 

“But you don’t love them? You’re not obsessed with them?” Johnny knows he might be a little looser with his words than usual right now, but- but, this is usually he and Ten’s whole relationship, just fawning over each other for fun. He knows he told Ten how much he enjoyed the Ten/Alice pics. He knows Ten told him how good his hair looked, but now Ten just ‘likes’ his tattoos? Johnny’s a little offended. 

Ten laughs, but Johnny doesn’t miss the tips of his ears turning red. “Johnny I said I really liked your tattoos,” he says, and then he puts his head down to do the next nail.

“Ok,” Johnny says, miffed, “whose tattoos are better than mine? I wanna know.” 

“Oh my god, Johnny,” Ten groans. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“No way,” Johnny presses. “I get ten questions and this is question number four. I wanna know.” 

“Ugh,” Ten complains. “Alright fine, if you wanna do this. I like a lot of members tattoos, but-”

“But who,” Johnny nearly demands. 

“From an art and style point of view, Taeyong’s. From a hotness point of view, mmm,” he says, making a noise in the back of his throat. “Yuta’s new one on his stomach is so good.” 

Johnny blinks. “Yuta’s and Taeyong’s? Really?” he asks exasperatedly. 

“Yes,” Ten says, very sure of himself. Which is annoying, Johnny thinks. “I like both of their tattoos better than yours. I’m sorry.” 

“Fine,” Johnny says as Ten picks up another finger, another color of polish. “Since you have such good opinions. If you had to change my tattoos what would you do?”

Ten stops painting his nail and puts the cap back on the polish. “I wouldn’t change any, or redo any, really. I would add one, though. Right there,” he says, laying his hand right on Johnny’s chest, right above his heart. Johnny looks down at his hand. Ten moves his fingers around the area. “Right there. I would design a really fucking cool tattoo for you and add it there. And I bet it would look so fucking hot.” Johnny looks at Ten, who’s just looking at his hand resting on Johnny’s chest. It’s a little reminiscent of… well… that last time that Ten and Johnny had hung out and drank… 

Ten removes his hand suddenly, and sort of shakes himself out of their little moment, clears his throat. “Next finger,” he says, starting on Johnny’s other hand. 

That means it’s time for Johnny to ask another question, and he has one in mind, one that’s sort of been bugging him, but he’s not sure if he should ask it. He bites his lip. He’s still feeling fairly buzzed, though. He wonders if Ten is, too. Maybe he can get away with it then. 

“So you’ve mentioned Taeyong twice now…” Johnny starts cautiously. Ten doesn’t say anything. “Once for the nail polish… once for the tattoos. So I guess my question six is… you know… is something going on with you and Yong?”

Ten appears, at least to Johnny, completely calm in the face of that question. He finishes painting Johnny’s sixth nail, another yellow thumb, and looks up at Johnny through his eyelashes. 

“Are Taeyongie and I fooling around? That’s what you’re asking.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Johnny says. 

“No, Johnny,” Ten says firmly, and then he quirks an eyebrow and looks him in the eye, “you still hold the distinction of being the only member of NCT that I’ve fooled around with.” 

Shit. Johnny didn’t mean to bring that up. He should never have asked about Yong. He lives with him. He’d obviously know if something was going on between him and Ten. But he also didn’t think Ten would bring it up. Them, that is. It’s not like… well it’s not like they ever talked about it. The last time they got drunk together, like, really drunk together, and things had gotten very hazy. Honestly, there were still some gaps in Johnny’s memory, but he knows that they kissed. A lot. They kissed a lot. And things were said, and clothes came off. They didn’t have sex, he knows that much, but there had been some pretty heavy touching if he’s remembering right. 

He honestly thought he dreamt the whole thing the night after it happened. He woke up alone and disgustingly hungover and had convinced himself nothing had actually happened until Ten showed up to practice equally disgustingly hungover with a hickey on his neck, and then everything had come rushing back. Ten must’ve known he didn’t know what to do back then. They were young. Ten was newly 20 and they were best friends and there were a lot of new and very confusing feelings and… it just spiraled. If Ten hadn’t just come up to Johnny at practice and pretended like nothing had gone down, like there was nothing to talk about… Johnny doesn’t know where they’d be. But Johnny still wondered sometimes if Ten remembered it more clearly than he did, if Ten still thought about it now… 

“Ah, nice,” is all Johnny musters up in response.

Ten, of course, has the audacity to chuckle at him. “Do you have a question seven, Mr. Suh?” he teases. 

“Huh? Oh,” Johnny says. He thinks he was caught up reliving something for a moment there. It’s funny what he remembers and what he doesn’t from that. Like he remembers that Ten’s mouth is impossibly soft, but he forgets what they said to each other, how he got on top of Ten in the first place. “Um ok,” he says finally. “I guess I wanna know now. Do you remember that night? And if you do, what do you remember about it?”

Ten cocks an eyebrow. “Isn’t that two questions?”

“Well, I guess kinda,” Johnny says. “But one sort of necessitates the other don’t you think?”

“I’ll let it slide this time,” Ten says, and then he takes a long pause. “I do remember that night,” he says like it’s a confession. “And I remember, um, bits and pieces I guess. I like to think I got the important stuff.” 

Good, Johnny thinks, because the important stuff is everything I’m missing.

Ten goes on, “You know. I remember drinking, obviously, in your dorm and just like, drifting closer together on the bed we were sitting on, cause I think we were watching a show? Right? A drama? And then I was showing you drawings and then I said I’d draw all over you just to torture you, cause you were torturing me, back then, if you remember, but I’m sure you don’t because you were so hot and completely oblivious to it back then but I wasn’t, and then, I don’t know,” he says with a shrug. “Eventually it just felt like it was appropriate to be kissing, so we kissed. And you’re a very good kisser, so I kissed you some more.”

“And then?” Johnny asks him. Ten can’t stop here. He never heard this side of it. He needs more.

“And is that a question there, Johnny?” Ten asks. 

“Yes, fine, whatever, question eight,” he agrees, anything to get Ten to keep talking. 

“Ok,” Ten says. “And then some shirts came off pretty soon after that and then you must’ve been pretty drunk, because you kept talking about how you were sooo turned on because I was so flexible.”

Johnny curses past him. 

“And then I remember you putting your hand down my pants with some difficulty, belt buckles and all,” Ten says, and he must see Johnny’s eyes get wide, because he says, “oh, didn’t remember that then, did you?” He goes on, “And then I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I’m sure it was something about how hot you are, how tall, and how good looking, and how big your hands are… and then we sort of just fell asleep after a while, we didn’t go any farther.”

Johnny just swallows. 

“Oh!” Ten adds, “And then I made you promise that I could paint your nails one day, the end!”

“Ugggghh,” Johnny growls. But then he laughs, and Ten laughs and the tension is still there, but it’s a little less than it was a second ago. Which is good...but still dangerous. Dangerous because Johnny’s older now, and he has a much better handle on his emotions, and he knows very clearly what he wants when he looks at Ten… 

“You still have two more questions,” Ten says, tapping on his last two unpainted nails. 

For the first time in a few questions, Johnny actually looks down at his now painted nails. “Hey, they actually look good,” he says. 

“I told you,” Ten chides. Johnny looks at his friend sitting right in front of him. This whole time, even when he asked Ten in detail to describe their first and only hookup, he hasn’t looked flustered. Hasn’t looked thrown at all. 

Unfair, Johnny thinks, as he tries to come up with a question to actually throw Ten off. 

“How often do you think about that hookup?” he asks Ten.

Ten still looks determined to not falter under his questioning, but Johnny does notice that for the first time in all of this, Ten misses his nail and gets some nail polish smeared on his skin. 

“What?” he asks, like he didn’t hear the question, even though he clearly did.

“I asked how often you’ve thought about that hookup since it happened,” he says again. 

“Um.”

“You said you were going to be honest, right?” Johnny teases. Johnny watches him, holds his gaze as he shifts his jaw. 

“Yeah,” Ten answers. He takes a long pause and finishes his ninth finger. He’s quieter when he speaks again, “I think about it all the time. I thought about it a lot right after it happened, and I’ve thought about it a lot over the last few years, even when I was hooking up with other guys sometimes I’d think about it, and I’m thinking about it right now. So yeah, I think about it a lot.” And then he shrugs and roots around in his bag for whatever the last color he has planned is. 

Johnny sits there and marvels at him. How he’s still, after all of that, after all of this, the picture of composure. Is it a dancer thing? He doesn’t know. But he can’t figure it out. 

Then, it dawns on him all at once as he remembers what their relationship is, what it’s always been. Ten’s being so brash and bold just telling him everything, because they’re always doing stuff like this. They’re always teasing and flirting and it’s never going anywhere, so Ten thinks it’s safe. He thinks he can just tell Johnny because he assumes it won’t go anywhere. But God, this time, Johnny really wants it to. 

“Would you do it again if I told you that I wanted to?” Johnny asks as Ten starts on his last nail. 

Ten actually does respond this time. He freezes, and then whips up to look at Johnny. “Is that your question?” he asks. 

“Yep. That’s the one,” Johnny responds flatly. 

“I, uh, I don’t know,” Ten says, and screws the cap back on the nail polish. 

“Oh, ok,” Johnny says, feeling defeated, and then he thinks about Ten being so bold not five minutes ago, and decides he can be bold, too. “Well, I would,” he says. 

“Don’t tease, Johnny,” Ten admonishes him. 

“I’m not!” Johnny refutes him. “I mean it… I think about that hookup a lot, too. Like, maybe more than you.”

There’s a long silence. 

“So you’re saying that if I kissed you right now, you’d want that?” Ten asks finally. 

“I thought I was the one asking the questions,” Johnny replies and the words are barely out of his mouth before Ten’s lips are crashing into his, and he’s surprised, at first, and then Ten’s mouth immediately melts against his own and they’re kissing, and it’s so much better than it was the first time they did this that he almost can’t believe it. 

He pushes his mouth into Ten’s with more urgency, and smiles into the kiss when Ten responds in kind, letting his tongue run across Johnny’s bottom lip. It’s one of those things, Johnny thinks, it must be, where he knew he wanted this, but he didn’t know how much until he got it. 

If he felt buzzed before, he feels positively high now, adrenaline and want running through him. 

“Ten,” Johnny moans, pulling away for a second and Ten looks up at him. 

“Yeah?” he asks and it comes out breathless. 

“God, I’m-” he starts and he reaches his hands up to cup Ten’s face. He wants to take Ten apart now that he finally has the chance after all this time. 

His hands never get there. 

“What are you doing?” Ten asks, grabbing him by the wrists. 

“I’m uh,” Johnny stutters. “Well I was planning on touching you.”

“Babe,” Johnny laughs. “You’ve got some wet paint there. You’re not touching anything for a while.”

Johnny’s eyes widen and he glances down at his nails, still wet with polish. “What?” he asks. “Ten-”

Ten laughs, kind of maniacally, which kind of scares Johnny, kind of turns him on, and says, “You can’t touch me, but I can touch you, so I’d just get comfy.”

Johnny’s head spins at that as Ten’s hands reach for his shirt, and start to undo his top buttons, and Johnny thanks whatever benevolent spirit moved him to put on a button down instead of a t-shirt this morning, since there was so way Ten was risking running his nails for taking off a t shirt. 

As soon as Ten’s gotten Johnny’s buttons undone to his liking, he moves to kiss his chest, right over the spot where Ten said he wanted to tattoo him. He marks him with his mouth instead of ink, over and over, until Johnny’s kind of embarrassed at the noises leaving his mouth. 

Johnny’s so turned on, just from this, that he feels stupid, but he still lets out a laugh when he remembers that he thought his biggest concern of the night would be Ten painting his nails. And now Johnny’s got his shirt most of the way off with his arms under strict order to stay pinned at his sides and Ten is literally sucking on his- 

Oh. Christ. Did Ten just lick his abs? Johnny’s going to die a very enjoyable death here in a minute. 

“Who-” he grinds out from between his teeth, not even able to open his eyes. “Who the fuck have you been hooking up with that you learned to do shit like this?” 

Ten sucks one of Johnny’s nipples into his mouth. “Mm,” he says. “Not you. Which was a mistake.”

And then he pushes Johnny gently onto his back and Ten whips off his own long sleeve, exposing all of his own tattoos to Johnny’s eyes, and then Ten, fucking flexible Ten, slides up Johnny’s body to find his mouth again. 

“You’re a snake,” Johnny accuses him. “You don’t have bones.” Ten laughs, really laughs at that, and Johnny forgets the situation for a moment and raises his hands to explore Ten’s body, his face, his hair, anything. 

Of course Ten catches him and pins his wrists back to the bed. 

“I said no touching, Johnny Suh,” Ten tells him, and Johnny pouts. 

He’s so distracted he doesn’t even notice what’s happening until Ten is explaining it to him. 

“The thing about belt buckles,” he’s saying when Johnny tunes in, “is that they’re really not hard to undo.” He slides Johnny’s belt out of its loops and tosses it somewhere beyond the bed. “You were just way too drunk last time to do it.” 

“When this nail polsih is dry,” Johnny threatens him, “you’re finished. You’re through. And the next time we do this, you are not gonna be such a cheeky bastard.” 

Ten smiles up at him so brightly, and he hasn’t seen Ten smile like that in a while, and he loves making Ten happy. The insane thought crosses Johnny’s head that this is good for their friendship, and then he immediately dismisses it, because he doesn’t know what this is, but he can no longer consider it just a friendship. His other friends are not like Ten Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul. His other friends have not been pining for each other for years. His other friends are not currently taking his dick out of his very expensive boxer briefs and licking along the head. 

Nope. No one doing that. 

His whole body jolts when Ten puts his dick in his mouth, and Johnny unfortunately picks now to remember that Mark told him that he thinks Ten doesn’t have a gag reflex. That rumor either fortunately or unfortunately, appears to be proven true in the next few minutes. 

Johnny’s hands are almost twitching at his sides because he wants nothing more than to grab a handful of Ten’s black hair right now and pull, but he can’t. Ten told him he couldn’t. He can only watch the most erotic thing he’s ever seen in his life, and give Ten muttered praises over and over again from where he’s lying on the bed. 

“Ten,” he moans when he knows he’s close. “God, I’m gonna come, Ten, Jesus, you’re gonna kill me.”

Ten lets go of his dick with a pop just to say, “Then come,” and then puts his head back down, puts his mouth back on Johnny. It’s the sight of that, the sight of Ten’s mouth slowly descending back onto Johnny’s dick that really sets him over the edge. And he comes in his mouth. 

Johnny thinks he may have actually shed a tear he comes so hard, and Ten lies his head on his chest as he comes down. 

“I think 20 year old us would’ve been very proud of that,” Ten asserts from his position on top of Johnny. 

Johnny laughs, his whole body shaking. “No way,” he says, “20 year old us didn’t deserve that. They wouldn’t have appreciated it the way I am now.”

Ten smiles up at him, presses a soft kiss to his lips. “Oh hey,” he says, reaching down for Johnny’s hands. “These are dry,” he says, holding up his work. 

Johnny’s whole body freezes for a good ten seconds, so much so that Ten asks if he’s alright, and then in the next breath Johnny flips him onto his back and pins him to the mattress. 

“Johnny,” Ten says like he’s not quite sure what Johnny’s going to do, and Johnny roots his fingers into Ten’s hair and pulls his head to the side and latches his mouth onto Ten’s neck right below his ear. 

“I think,” Johnny whispers into Ten’s ear, in between biting and sucking on his earlobe, “that all you’ve done tonight is paint my nails, and tease me, and wind me up, and then completely fuck me up.” Ten lets out a shallow breath. “And now,” Johnny says, undoing Ten’s belt with one hand and throwing it across the room, just to prove he can, “It’s my turn.” 

Johnny thought it was only fair to start by his chest tattoo. The sexy one. The only tattoo that he’ll openly admit is in fact much sexier than his. No, he’s not petty. And then he spends the next hour taking Ten apart piece by piece, until he’s begging to come, and Johnny lets him before he cleans them up and tucks them both in under the covers, and knows that this time, no one’s going anywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the filth and flirting!!


End file.
